The Life Of A Scholar Seldom Abounds

Eternal Blessings Crown My Earliest Friend, And Round His Dwelling Guardian Saints Attend.

Well Had The Boding Tremblers Learned To Trace The Day's Disasters In His Morning Face.

The Ingratitude Of The World Can Never Deprive Us Of The Conscious Happiness Of Having Acted With Humanity Ourselves.

The Europeans Are Themselves Blind Who Describe Fortune Without Sight. No First-rate Beauty Ever Had Finer Eyes, Or Saw More Clearly. They Who Have No Other Trade But Seeking Their Fortune Need Never Hope To Find Her; Coquette-like, She Flies From Her Close Pursuers, And At Last Fixes On The Plodding Mechanic Who Stays At Home And Minds His Business.

Hope, Like The Gleaming Taper's Light, Adorns And Cheers Our Way; And Still, As Darker Grows The Night, Emits A Brighter Ray.